


i had the most beautiful pale pink rose

by GStK



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 05:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20943356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GStK/pseuds/GStK
Summary: i couldn't answer you. still.my lips moved at you silently.they offered words you never heard.they screamed inside my crazed brain. only.it could do nothing for you.





	i had the most beautiful pale pink rose

**Author's Note:**

> Vague but non-specific spoilers for any non-Black Eagles route.

i have many scars. you can pick your favourite.

the old me would have cried when you chose not to walk with me. she did. and she does, still. she bangs on the inner panes of glass while the rest of me brings the world to its knees. she doesn't scream, though. we suppressed that a long time ago.

you ended up picking the one on my left shoulderblade, just beyond the horizon of what i could see. you say you must have left it during one of our mock battles. it was dimitri, but that's alright. you've scratched lines in between my thighs. you've pricked my neck with your teeth. it's the invisible that matters most: hair i feel against my neck that no longer falls, words said by your eyes that i couldn't catch in my hands.

i remember bowing to you in more ways than one. you may not have had the words for it but you had the hands, the actions. i did not scream for you; i prayed. you became the goddess i wanted to shatter. your fingers slithered and your lips soothed. the portrait i painted of you ended up looking nothing at all like you. it was too graceful; you were too feral. too beautiful.

you have many scars. i pick my favourite the night we meet in the goddess tower. you peel me out of everything except my gloves and hook my legs around your hips. i moan every colour i have for you and every name. whatever she is, she is embodied in you, and i am the sinner for staining your canvas. so be it.

the winds sweep the gentle grass. my battalions ready their weapons. you prepare your own. the shriveled worm writhes in my dungeons. you have come for her, not for me. your robes are white and your eyes are green and you continue the serpentine legacy.

sylvain comes for me first. i'm shouting orders to my soldiers while i split his head open with my axe. you crack hubert's ribs with the sword of the creator. mercedes screams in agony when our machines take her arms. i can hear annette's sobs when they turn her to ash and dust. i'm not thinking of past laughs and worries shared under the blanket of dark.

i'm thinking of you. i'm closing my eyes in the heat of battle and picturing your lips. i'm opening my eyes; one of my horns is chipped and it cracks off. a roll of my hair spills out over my armour. one of our mages fells a wyvern rider on your side. i don't know who it is this time; cyril, perhaps?

you're making your approach to my throne. you thwart my barriers, my men, my spells. some of the soldiers begin to quake. i shout words i read in a book with dimitri, once, when we were children. sorry, dimitri. i steal the hero's speech from him.

spells crack the roof of the throne room and the rain starts to spill through. they penetrate catherine's heavy armour before she can get to me and thunderbrand acts as a lightning rod to the brewing storm.

you walk up the steps with your sword in hand and i'm thinking about you. it's coming out on the battlefield, but there are no more tears, just memories of submitting to you while you slid into me in the library. hanneman and ashe were just a shelf away. i had to moan your name into my own hands until you decided your fingers were a better muzzle, instead. the ladder rocked with the toy between us. love had nothing to do with it because i had decided a long time ago, perhaps from the moment i met you --

you stand face to face with me. the thoughts cease in your presence. we have our duel. you take off three of my fingers so i can't grip my axe any more.

did you love me, professor?

tell your answer to my head when you carry it from my shoulders. i wish i could have walked with you.

i stumble my last few steps forward and you catch me.

**Author's Note:**

> Title and summary adapted from works by Elena Minor.


End file.
